


How to Be Human: A Guide for Sentient Beings

by tatecorrigan



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, apologies to....everyone, at some point this was supposed to be a nice story, it very quickly went off-roading and became crack, just everyone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:31:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatecorrigan/pseuds/tatecorrigan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo Ren has spent at least half his life training to be a perfect weapon of the Dark Side. It hasn’t left a lot of time for developing social skills. Only once he’s aboard the Finalizer, forced to work with the First Order, and General Hux, does Kylo begin to see the importance of his social interactions. Fortunately, the Finalizer’s data library has a collection of self-help manuals on file. Kylo Ren is a quick learner, and General Hux makes for the perfect case study.<br/>[illustration for chapter 6 provided by kylostahp]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Above all else, human societies value social relationships. It is the crux of their being; humans will take enormous risks, accept inferior circumstances, and even go to war if they believe that doing so will protect the bonds between them. Humans are a naturally social species, and humans who finds themselves without relationships are deprived of crucial elements of physical health, mental wellness, and overall enrichment. They are  less able to cope with illness, stress, adversity, and change._   
  
_Fittingly, human social norms are complex and multifaceted. In this series I hope to elucidate on the many details of human social life in the hopes of providing a better understanding to all who may interact with this peculiar and fascinating species._   
  
_It should be noted that herein I have attempted to distill and convey the general rules governing human social interactions. Many hundreds of thousands of variations will exist, depending entirely on the specific human culture, subcultural or situational contexts, and individual preferences. These variations can be overwhelming to the newcomer, and I do not wish to discourage any budding scholar of human relations by frustrating with details! Instead I would simply encourage the reader to observe and consider contextual peculiarities which may lend to diversity of experience._   


-Prologue, _How to Be Human: A Guide for Sentient Beings_ , by Protocol Droid C9-G2X


	2. Chapter 2

_ Where human cultures have developed a distinct work culture, relations between co-workers are a perennial topic of concern. Often humans who would otherwise not interact with one another are forced to minimize personality differences and disagreements for the purpose of achieving some shared work goal. Work, then, becomes a point of bonding, a shared experience that may bring together otherwise disparate individuals. _

_-_ _ From  _ Chapter 9: “Together We Prevail: The Common Bond of Work Culture” _ _

 

 

The click of a well-heeled military boot on the freshly waxed deck of a new starship was among the most pleasing sounds known to Brendol Hux, Jr., recently promoted General of the First Order and commanding officer of the  _ Finalizer _ .  The ship was the latest in new  _ Resurgent _ -class line of star destroyers, almost three kilometers of optimally engineered warship, capable of carrying nearly seventy-five thousand passengers. Hux had pored over the specifications when the new line had been announced among the higher ranks of officers of the First Order, each time reveling in the dimensions of the included holograms. 

And now the  _ Finalizer _ was his. It was an enormous vote of confidence in his abilities, he thought, to be given such a command so recently after his promotion. If his chest puffed a little further under his uniform as he traversed the corridor, he figured, it could only serve to encourage pride and dedication in the officers and crew under his command. 

He lifted his head a little higher as he approached a cadre of stormtroopers. They stepped to the sides of the corridor to make way for him, their General, as he headed toward the private holochamber near the primary command bridge. He nodded to acknowledge them, unsmiling. It would be unbecoming to appear too approachable to troops so far below his own rank. There were standards to maintain, after all. Order required hierarchy, and a properly functioning hierarchy required commitment to one’s role in the whole organization of things. This was the way of the First Order, and it was the only way to recapture the galaxy from the fumbling, inept grasp of the New Republic. 

Hux approached the holochamber, entering his clearance code into the comm panel mounted by the door. The reinforced steel doors parted to admit him before closing, plunging the briefly illuminated chamber into near-darkness again. As Hux approached the center of the room, a blueish light flickered and Snoke’s looming presence appeared. 

“General Hux,” the Supreme Leader greeted. 

“Supreme Leader,” Hux answered, bowing in respect. 

“I trust you have found your new command satisfactory?”

“The ship is…magnificent,” Hux confessed. “Preliminary drills have demonstrated an enormous capability. The weapons system alone is unmatched in its range and efficiency. And the design is…truly exceptional.” Hux stopped himself, feeling a rising giddiness that threatened to become a distraction if he continued. 

“And what of your stormtrooper army?”

“My men are settling in quite well. Twelve units, all adapting quickly and without any reported issues.”

Snoke made a low growling sound, what Hux could only infer to be an indication of the Supreme Leader's pleasure with Hux's progress. “Excellent. I am glad to hear your command suits you so well, General.”

“I am grateful to have the opportunity to prove myself, Supreme Leader.”

“You will play an important role in the First Order’s victory.” 

“Thank you, Supreme Leader. I wish only to serve the First Order to the best of my ability.”

“As well you should, ” the giant hologram rumbled. “There is one more matter to discuss before I leave you, General.” Snoke gestured to his side, toward one of the dark corners of the chamber. “I don’t believe you’ve met my apprentice?” 

Hux’s brow furrowed momentarily, until a shadowy movement caught his eye. Hux startled, suppressing a cry of surprise as a cloaked figure graced forward from out of the darkness. A heavy hood obscured Hux’s view of a face. “Kylo Ren, leader of the Knights of Ren,” Snoke’s voice echoed. “And my apprentice. His mastery of the Force will guarantee our success in bringing the galaxy to order.” 

Kylo Ren lowered the hood of his cloak, revealing an expressionless black mask, bands of chrome encircling what Hux could only imagine were his eyes. Deep scratches and dents mottled the otherwise smooth, matte surface of the mask. Hux wondered, with some alarm, how this strange visitor had boarded his ship without notice. He felt the faintest twinge of pain in the back of his skull, intrusive and unwelcome. Hux had hoped the tension headaches of a new command wouldn’t start for at least another cycle. His eyes closed briefly to tamp it down. 

“It is admirable that you are so concerned about security aboard your ship, General.” Kylo Ren spoke, his voice warped through a modulator on his mask. Hux felt the invasive little pain pulse. “Allow me to assure you that I will not be a threat to your defenses while I am aboard.” 

Hux resisted the urge to press into his temple to alleviate the ache so suddenly manifesting in his skull. Instead he nodded stiffly in the direction of the newcomer, then looked again to the Supreme Leader. “Allow me to reiterate, Supreme Leader, that the _ Finalizer  _ is functioning wonderfully. I would not want you to waste your resources on monitoring our status--”

“Ren is not here to monitor you, General,” Snoke interrupted. “Ren will be conducting a series of important missions for me. You will assist him in whatever manner he deems necessary for our success. He will be operating with the utmost secrecy.”

Hux's deep breath failed to eliminate his look of concern. “How long will these missions last, Supreme Leader?” 

“As long as it takes,” Snoke responded icily. 

The light of the hologram flickered. “Of course, Supreme Leader.” 

“Excellent.” Snoke leaned back. “Ren, I leave you to your tasks. General, I look forward to seeing what you will accomplish with this new command of yours.”

The blue light of the hologram cut out, plunging the already dim chamber into blackness. Hux turned toward the bright outline of the door, cautious of the cloaked figure at his side as they exited. 

“Allow me to make arrangements for your quarters, Kylo Ren,” he offered evenly. Again he tried to ignore his apprehension about the mysterious Knight of Ren. Did dark Force users sleep, he wondered. 

“There is no need. I have already made arrangements in your charter. I have placed myself among the senior command habitation near the bridge.”

Only years of Academy training prevented Hux’s mouth from dropping open in surprise. “How did you gain access to our charter?  _ And how did you get on my ship _ ?” 

“Your security protocols require improvement, General. I have already notified your staff.” 

Hux suppressed an irritated huff. “Wonderful. Your feedback is so  _ very _ appreciated. And how long can we anticipate you staying with us, Ren?” Mentally he began reviewing the ship’s charter, trying to determine how this...figure had come aboard without his noticing. 

The expressionless mask tilted slightly. “For the foreseeable future.” 

A hard blink prevented Hux from narrowing his eyes. He needed to finish this welcome speech so he could proceed with something slightly more pleasant. Memories of running drills in his Academy days came to mind.  “If you find yourself in need of food or drink, you are welcome to visit the cafeteria at any ti-”

“I will take my meals in my quarters. I require little.” 

It wasn’t good for Hux to grind his teeth like this, so he forced his tongue between two incisors before speaking. “Perfect,” he managed. “If there is anything else I or my staff can do to make your time aboard the Finalizer more comfortable, please do not hesitate to let me know.” 

“Comfort is of little concern to the Knights of Ren, General. I will inform you when your services are needed to carry out my missions.” 

“I look forward to it,” Hux seethed, rotating a shoulder to navigate around a crew member in the narrow corridor before turning back to his new charge. “I must return to my command post, Ren, do excuse m-” Hux’s voice failed as he watched Kylo Ren’s robes dusting along the floor, their owner having turned down an adjacent hallway. 

Hux felt his neatly manicured fingernails pushing into his palms before he shook the tension out of his shoulders and resumed his walk to the command bridge. 

 

* * *

 

 

The crowd of officers milling in the corridor, just outside the small onboard chapel, was not only unusual, Hux was pretty sure it was violating some First Order directive about unofficial, unsanctioned gatherings. Spontaneous and unauthorized fraternization was the seed of rebellion, his father had always said. Even aboard the First Order’s pride ship--especially aboard the  _ Finalizer _ \--a commanding officer could never be too careful. Constant vigilance was a necessary state for anyone in a position of leadership, especially a newly granted postion.

Hux’s pace did not slow or falter as he approached. “Lieutenants,” he spoke calmly. “Is there some issue that prevents you from taking up your duties at the bridge?” 

A cadre of uneasy expressions turned to him. “It’s...It’s the chapel, sir.” Mitaka’s brows were knitted together, simpering mouth hanging down sorrowfully. 

“What appears to be the problem, Lieutenant?” Hux’s gaze bore down on the Lieutenant. 

“He’s--I mean, Kylo Ren--he’s...taken it.” At the mention of Kylo Ren Hux felt the corner of his mouth attempt to twitch. 

“Taken it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Mitaka took a deep breath before beginning his report. “Ensign Garrity was utilizing the chapel around oh nine hundred hours when Kylo Ren entered and ordered her to leave. She was in the middle of her devotions and informed him of such, but he pulled out his, his lightsaber, and threatened to cut her head off if she didn’t leave. Now he’s shut the door and, and jammed the access panel somehow.” Mitaka’s expression went through some paroxysm of confusion. “We can hear him inside but we can’t tell what he’s doing.”

Hux’s eyebrow raised despite himself. Spirituality held no sway with the General, but per his Academy education he understood the necessity of tolerating it in his crew. There was no reason a crewman’s private faith should interfere with their faith in the First Order, especially if the crewman valued their existence on  _ this _ particular plane of reality. 

Kylo Ren, however, must have missed that particular part of leadership training. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Mitaka, you stay here. Everyone else,” Hux raised his gaze to the huddling crowd, “is dismissed. Return to your stations and resume your duties.” 

Hux straightened his shoulders and folded his hands behind his back as he faced the locked door to the chapel. Diplomacy first, he reminded himself. 

“Kylo Ren,” he called out, projecting his voice at what he hoped was a sufficient direction and volume to penetrate the steel. “My crew are reporting that you are refusing free access to the chapel.” He paused, waiting for some response. When none was forthcoming, he continued. “Preventing any officer or crew member from participating in regular spiritual activities is a violation of fleet protocol. I am aware that you may still be new to the running of a military starship, so I am willing to overlook this error in this instance, but I must insist you vacate immediately.” That should do it, he thought. 

There was no answer. Long seconds stretched between Hux and the sleek surface of the door. Mitaka’s boots shuffled behind him, a small sign of intolerable lassitude. Hux added the issue to his growing list of concerns about crew readiness to address later. It was important to prioritize.

“Mitaka,” he said, “Call a technician up here to get the lock open. We’ll keep trying until then.” 

Before Mitaka could finish ordering the technician the lock panel beeped and the door slid open suddenly. “There is no need, General.” Kylo Ren’s voice came, clipped and flattened by the modulator in his mask. 

Hux gritted his teeth to keep the rest of his face impassive. “What are you doing?” He demanded, forcing his way through the door. “You cannot barricade the chapel from the crew, they are entitl-- _ what is that _ .”

The modest altar at the front of the chapel, usually bare except for pre-scheduled displays reserved at least twenty cycles in advance, was covered in dark grey powder. At the top of the hillocks of dust sat a twisted piece of melted plasteel. “Is that-- _are those ashes?_ ” Hux stared in disbelief, unable to keep his mouth from hanging open. He looked at Ren. “What are you doing with ashes in my chapel? Did you have a fire? _Did you have an open fire on my ship, Ren,_ _because I swear--_ ”

“There is great power in meditating on the remains of one’s enemies. It was necessary to bestow them to a place of appropriate honor.”

“ _ You put human remains in my ship’s chapel _ .”

“Not all of them were human.” 

Hux gaped soundlessly before regaining his voice, glaring at the pile of ash. “This is disgusting. Clean this up  _ immediately _ . Get this out of my chapel. I don’t care what you do in your own quarters but this is  _ unacceptable _ , Ren.” 

“I was under the impression I was to have free reign aboard the ship,” Kylo’s voice came slightly softer through the modulator.    
“Not when it involves preventing the crew from using the public facilities. Besides, this is an  _ enormous _ health hazard. We could get  _ diseases _ .” Hux suppressed a shudder at the memory of studying protocols for managing outbreaks of communicable diseases aboard military starships. It usually involved opening the airlocks until all risk of living viruses and bacteria--and anything that might carry them--had been eliminated. “Clean it up, or I’ll have one of the maintenance droids dispose of it.” 

Kylo stiffened, shoulders squaring as if about to argue, but Hux simply turned on one heel and walked out. He still had an entire shift ahead of him, and was nearly out of patience. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Conversation is the prized centerpiece of human social interaction. A competent conversationalist is a desirable companion in private and public life. Accordingly, one who struggles to make a engaging, informative, and entertaining conversational partner will likely find their social invitations wanting._

 -From Chapter 3 _ _,_ The Importance of Conversation_

 

“Status report?”

“General, no signals from Kylo Ren in...ninety-six hours.”

“And the squadrons on the ground?”

“No new reports from Captain Phasma since the last, sir.”

“Which was when?” Hux gripped the bridge of his nose, feeling a tension headache slowly unfurling at the base of his neck.

“Forty-two minutes ago, sir.”

Hux cursed under his breath, then shot an icy glare at the bridge crewman who dared to look at him in shock. Barely a month since Hux had taken command and already he'd _lost_ the Supreme Leader’s apprentice. Snoke was going to have his head, he knew it. At least the headache would no longer be a problem, Hux thought.

It was _supposed_ to be a fairly simple exercise; Kylo Ren had requested-- _commanded_ \--a stopover on this diminutive backwater planet for some secret mission. The request had come across Hux’s datapad without explanation; when Hux had returned the request asking for clarification as to the purpose of the detour, Kylo Ren had shown up at his door, rasping vaguely threatening references to the will of the Supreme Leader. Hux’s pragmatism had won over his urge to not be cowed; he had swiped his approval across the datapad in his hand, never breaking eye contact with Ren’s expressionless mask.

Never one to waste an opportunity, Hux had chosen to deploy the stormtrooper units for training exercises while Ren chased down his mystical purpose. Idleness was a breeding ground for chaos, his father had always said, while strenuous exercise and task-oriented assignments were good for mental clarity and focus.

Which his troopers were now using in spades; Ren had somehow managed to _disappear_ on the surface of this ball of overgrown jungle, orbiting too close to a small sun for Hux’s taste. Once again Hux’s thoughts returned to the puzzle of _how_ , exactly, Ren had managed to make himself scarce. His comm link had stopped signaling some days ago. Then his silence had stretched far beyond the set pick-up time and there had been no recent trace of him in a fifty kilometer radius of his last known location. Scans for life signs had proved fruitless, as had satellite imaging, and so now Hux had been able to do nothing except dedicate the time and resources to a manual search. Hux hated this kind of effort; it was...well, it was _uneconomical_ . Expensive. _Sloppy_.

“Sir! Signal from the ground, they’ve found him...or…”

Hux nearly snapped his neck turning to stare down the crewman. To his credit Thanisson only faltered slightly as he continued delivering the transmission. “They...say Kylo Ren has approached the shuttle and appears unharmed.”

Hux considered personally adjusting the last part. “Get them up here _immediately._ ” He turned on a heel and aimed himself toward the docking bay.

“Yes, sir!”

Any lesser creature might have stood in the docking bay, toe tapping and arms crossed. An average man wouldn’t be faulted for pacing impatiently back and forth across the deck to release whatever nervous energy he might have accumulated over four cycles of complete uncertainty about the locations of the Supreme Leader’s apprentice, for whom he had been made personally responsible and whose absence could only fuel fits of anxiety powerful enough to incapacitate that average man down to a less taxing position in his organization. Mail sorting, perhaps.

But General Hux was not an average man, and so for twenty-two minutes he stood at parade rest, only the working muscles of his jaw any indication of the building pressure of rage. By the time Kylo Ren’s shuttle docked, spilling forth dusty-suited stormtroopers, Hux had worked himself into a fine state of controlled wrath.

Kylo Ren galumphed down the ramp, robes hanging heavily, damp with rain and mud and stars knew what else. He stopped a few steps from the General. One tiny, curling leaf stuck errantly in the fabric of his cowl. Hux said nothing.

“General.”

“Ren.” Hux nodded, his voice clipped. “Welcome back. Phasma informs me that you are well?”

“I am in excellent condition.” Even through the modulator Hux could hear the slightest tone of condescension.

“I’m looking forward to reviewing your report of this incident. Supreme Leader Snoke is eager to know where you’ve been.”

“It took your troops eighty-five hours and sixteen minutes to find me. I expect better of their training, General.”

“You did not check in at your appointed times, and we lost your signal.” Hux felt the anger welling in his throat, and bit his tongue to hold it back. “Per standard procedure we allowed a ten hour window before beginning our investigation. If you’ll submit your comm link to Communications, we can have it fixed.”

“That will be unnecessary. My comm link is functional.”

“Your comm link has been working, then.” Hux said flatly.

“Yes.”

“And you chose not to contact us with your location.”

“Yes.”

“... _Why_?”

“You deployed your troops for training exercises. Was this not an ideal training exercise?”

A vein in the side of Hux’s neck bulged threateningly. “It would have worked a great deal better if you had bothered to tell me about it,” he said loudly.

Kylo’s deadened tone was nonchalant. “I figured it would be a worthy exercise for you, as well.”

Hux felt himself sucking in a sharp breath, mouth drawn tight by the Knight’s audacity. The lower lid of one of his eyes hitched upward incrementally. “Need I remind you, I am a graduate of the First Order Academy and the youngest general in Imperial history.” His voice started low, gaining volume as he spoke. Hux was not typically one for boasting, but this was _important_ . “I have far outpaced every other officer of my age and rank in the last _hundred years_ . So I should think that if anyone on this ship is fit to determine what training exercises I may or may not benefit from experiencing, it certainly will _not_ be some foul-smelling mystic!” Hux looked Kylo up and down, wrinkling his nose as if only just reminded of the musty jungle smell of Kylo’s wet robes.

For a very brief moment, Kylo was still, and Hux rather thought he’d made an impression. Then there was a flash of red, a sparking sound, and Hux witnessed first-hand, for the first time in his life, the damage made possible by a lightsaber. Years later, in his rare moments of public inebriation, he could be cajoled into relating the story, earning proffered drinks in salute of his courage and leadership.

The operations console was not so lucky.

When finally Kylo’s rampage had abated, the surrounding air smoky and smelling of burnt wire and ozone, an erratic crackling echoing from inside the console, Hux stared at him through widened eyes. “Are you _insane_ ? Do you have _any idea_ the kind of damage you could do?” One wrong steel-melting swipe and they could lose main power, or worse.

Kylo Ren said nothing, panting as he swept from the room, faint tracks of mud trailing behind him. The bridge went quiet, crew unwilling or unable to do anything other than look at each other in furtive, horrified glances.

Captain Phasma approached the General, still cradling her blaster.

“I hate him,” Hux said weakly to the air, not caring if she heard.

“If I may speak freely, sir?”

“Go ahead,” he sighed.

“Sir, Kylo Ren consistently displays a lack of consideration for your authority. And the resources of this ship, including my troops,” Phasma’s voice was suddenly stern.

"He's like a petulant child," Hux sneered to the viewscreen. "Someone ought to turn him over their knee and spank him."

"Corporal punishment is only effective to a degree, sir," Phasma offered helpfully.

“He’s completely lacking in anything approaching manners, or even fundamental social skills,” Hux continued, working up a fine fit of irritation. “It’s like he needs a manual.”

“Perhaps, sir.”

Hux huffed through his nose. “Right. I want a full report on your squadrons’ performance during these...exercises. And put a request in with Mitaka before you leave,” he added. “I want a tracking device on Kylo Ren from here on out.”

“An excellent idea, sir.”

 

* * *

 

_It’s like he needs a manual…_

Across the ship, in his sparse quarters, Kylo Ren paused in shrugging off his robes. It wasn’t that he’d made a habit of listening in on the General’s gossip, but...well, he made it so _easy_ . The General was very willful, and force-sensitive or not, such tenacity had a way of warping the Force around it, sending out waves of thought and feeling that would knock over lesser Force users. It was easier _not_ to ignore him, Ren reasoned, simply letting the General’s mind flow over his own, like so much air over the wing of an atmo shuttle.

But this comment--this caught his attention. Ren finished disrobing and stepped into the sonic shower, scrubbing lightly at the days of filth now shaking from his skin with each sonic pulse. He wondered at the General’s meaning, idly considering what he might find in a quick search of the _Finalizer_ ’s resource databases.

The General’s accusation was harsh, but Ren had to admit it was not entirely untrue. Not even mostly untrue. Ren had left--been sent away--by _them_ at so young an age, and then the years in the tutelage of _that Jedi_...his mind had been trained, his body strengthened, but the ability to connect so easily with others had always eluded him. Even as the other younglings and padawans had joined hands and hearts in deeply intimate friendships, he had felt isolated. Not quite able to catch on to the whole matter of relating with others. And then…

Kylo stifled a shiver. There was no benefit to reflecting on what had happened then; only to acknowledge that he’d become more isolated but less lonely, Snoke’s voice a constant presence, pushing him to greatness. There had been no time to wish for companionship; the Dark Side was his solace and his power. The Knights of Ren had risen under Snoke’s tutelage, and in them Kylo had found at least a common cause. But their company--so focused on training, on strategy, on missions--more often than not left him lacking.

Even now, in this den of war, Kylo could sense the closeness between TIE fighter pilots, or some of the officers and crew, that had always eluded him. It should not bother him, he told himself. Attachment was a weakness--or, no, attachment for a _Jedi_ was weakness. The Sith before him had embraced passion, borne from attachment. But Kylo, as his master, was not Sith, and so this question continued to rankle with no satisfactory answers. The dark side could still confuse him, sometimes.

Kylo stepped out of the shower, pulling on the loose pants and shirt he usually wore for training. In the coldness of space he’d taken to wearing them while sleeping, as well. He settled onto his bed, leaning back against the headboard with a pillow behind him, and reached for his data pad to begin his research. The _Finalizer_ ’s databases didn't disappoint; within moments Kylo found was browsing through a handful of social protocol manuals. One he rejected after reading a few paragraphs; it seemed to be targeted exclusively at women attempting to succeed professionally ( _Nice Girls Don’t Command Squadrons: Mistakes Women Make at Work_ ), while another posed confusing rhetorical questions in the pursuit of personal fulfillment ( _Who Moved My Duusha?_ ). Kylo scrolled further, eyes flicking over passing titles until one in particular caught his attention.

_How to be Human: A Guide for Sentient Beings_

He paused, then opened the file and read a few lines:

_Humans are an ancient species whose presence is ubiquitous throughout the galaxy. As a social species, their lives are predicated on their interactions with each other. Many beings who attempt to communicate with humans find themselves quickly overwhelmed by the complexity of human social interactions._

Well, that as much seemed clear, based on Kylo’s experiences. Intrigued, he delved into the manual further, opening another section toward the middle of the document:

 _While human communication protocols may be varied, some general rules tend to apply. When humans interact with one another, they each will generally assume that the other is following the same rules that they do. Four main rules of conduct will be described here. The first rule, the rule of quality, requires that speakers attempt to contribute to conversations only that which they know to be true. The second rule requires speakers to make their contributions to a conversation as informative as is necessary, and no more..._  

Practical advice on tactics, Kylo observed; that was useful. He nodded and flipped even further:

_Many human races subscribe to a form of relating that is considered as more emotionally deep and intimate than the many acquaintances and friendships a human may acquire throughout their lifespan. These relationships may be called “romantic,” and humans in a romantic relationship may feel that they have additional responsibilities toward their partners, while also enjoying increased rewards. These rewards may include: shared economic resources, reliable support, priority in consideration, and a commitment to continue their partnership into the foreseeable future. While humans may have dozens or hundreds of relationships with family members, colleagues, friends and acquaintances throughout their lives, they will usually have very few or even only one romantic relationship. Some avoid them altogether, finding them too complex or unrewarding to be worth the effort._

Kylo considered his own observations of these kinds of relationships. His par-- _they_ had always demonstrated what he considered to be a lack of caution in their relationship with each other. As a child he had often wondered what purpose their union could serve, that they would clash as they did and yet continue to come back together. Possibly there was some benefit, unseen by him, which had kept them attached to one another despite their frequent displeasure in one another. There had been moments of great shared power between them, whatever else might have happened. Kylo looked up from his datapad, pondering. Priority, access to resources, a commitment that assured stability...he read on.

_Such relationships, therefore, are not to be treated lightly. They require dedication and effort, and can be extremely challenging._

And yet the benefits, Kylo mused, seemed worthwhile. No reward without risk, he reminded himself. Or great effort. Well, Kylo had struggled before. Strive to overachieve, Snoke had told him, so many times, when he was still young and soft, undisciplined, lacking in the true will. The will to power was the only will that mattered; and what was greater power than the power of attachments to the living? And besides, Kylo was one of the most powerful Force users in the galaxy. There was no task he could not accomplish.

And, if he was honest with himself, which a student of the Dark side must always be, he would benefit from such a union with another. The promise of support, of connection, appealed to him. Attachment was powerful, and therein lay its allure. He could accomplish so much more, he realized, with an... _attachment_ of his own.

And if it was power he wanted, only one subject for this exercise would do.

 _Proceed with caution._  


	4. Chapter 4

_When humans first engage with each other, they will typically spend a variable amount of time engaging in greetings, introductions, and “small talk.” Small talk refers to the exchange of relatively trivial information on topics considered to be of little importance. Conversely, small talk may also make reference to common experiences, which can include events or topics of great cultural, political, or economic importance!_

_-_ From Chapter 2: _Getting to Know You: Establishing Familiarity in Relations_

 

 

Hux felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle only seconds before Kylo Ren stomped through the doorway of the ship’s bridge. Several nearby crewmembers cowered visibly, though Hux noted with a small sense of pride that they commendably continued to work through their shuddering trepidation. He turned back to the viewscreen under his observation, pointedly not watching Kylo’s approach.

“General,” Kylo greeted, monotone modulated as always.

“Ren.” Hux busied himself flipping through files.

“Everything appears to be functioning normally.”

“Yes, it does.”

“I inform you of this to draw your attention to the absence of any problems thus far today.”

Hux felt a spark of irritation. “Yes, I’m aware. Everything is fine.”  Construction proposals. He wanted to review his construction proposals.

“Ship’s operations appear to have maintained a productive stability for some cycles,” Kylo continued.

Hux dropped his hand from the operations display. “Is there something you need, Ren?”

“Do you concur with my assessment?”

“Do you think there’s a problem, Ren?” Hux felt his eyes narrow.

“Not at all, General.”

“Then _what_?”

Kylo shrugged. “I hope your operations continue to remain...uneventful, General.” With a sudden turn he left the bridge, offering no explanation for his odd interruption.

Alarmed, Hux turned to the nearest operations personnel. “Put all substations on alert,” he ordered. “And run diagnostics, now and every shift for the rest of the cycle.” He didn’t know what Kylo Ren was up to, but he wasn’t about to let it catch him off-guard.

 

* * *

 

Kylo paced the halls of the _Finalizer_ , heart thudding in his chest. Hux’s expression was burned into his memory, his sneer of disdain mocking Kylo’s attempt. Kylo had spent most of the morning planning his conversation with the General, only to lose his nerve under Hux’s scrutiny. He was just so _intimidating_ , and constantly defensive. Kylo had thought to engage him in some casual discussion of light topics--weather had been suggested by the manual, though being in space made that difficult--but General Hux didn’t _do_ casual.

He would have to try again, Kylo realized, as he shed his robes in the training gym. There must be something that could open a conversation, something of mutual interest. He activated a training droid and turned on his saber, spinning it lightly to stretch his wrist before the droid began to shoot low-voltage blasts at him. He blocked each blast with brutal efficiency. Hux liked efficiency. They shared that, at least--perhaps the General could be engaged in some discussion of the merits of various efficiency checks in the operations of--no, Kylo was already bored before he’d even finished the thought.

A blaster bolt whizzed over Kylo’s shoulder, impacting the wall behind him and leaving a cloudy burn mark, a whisp of smoke dissipating in its aftermath.  Missions, maybe. Would Hux want to hear about his missions, though? Best not, he thought; he wouldn’t want to remind Hux of his earlier disgust with Kylo’s rituals. Besides, he somehow suspected the manual would not condone casual discussion of slaughtering one’s enemies, regardless of their species.

But _Hux’s_ missions...perhaps he could ask about Hux’s undertakings. People liked to talk about themselves, didn’t they? The manual had suggested as much. Kylo turned off his lightsaber and clipped it back into his belt. Yes, this new plan might be worth a try.

 

* * *

 

“General Hux!”

“ _Sweet stars have mercy_ …” Hux heard himself hiss. He had managed to avoid Kylo for a quiet and productive number of cycles--enough to make this interruption surprisingly unpleasant. “Ren,” he greeted loudly, the clunk of Ren’s boots approaching the center of the bridge.

“I am here for the latest news of your plans for Supreme Leader’s assignment.” Ren’s shoulders were overly broad, hulking and rounded like some predator waiting to strike. Hux found the effect somewhat intimidating and, as a result, entirely infuriating. He would not be cowed by the posturing of this overgrown ghoul. It simply wouldn’t stand.

“My updates were explained in detail in my latest report. It was sent to you some days ago,” Hux said briskly. His eyes never left the screen in front of him.

“Yes, I read it. Fascinating name for your little project, General.” The hiss and pop of Ren’s voice modulator could only deaden, but not eliminate, the sound of his smirk. It was insulting, Hux thought.

“Starkiller? I thought it most appropriate. My own little homage to the previous iterations commissioned by the Empire, although I intend for this one to be more successful.”

“The Death Star destroyed a planet,” Kylo retorted.

“Yes,” Hux said, flipping between files. “And Starkiller will destroy many more, if given half a chance.”

It will take much longer to build.” Hux clenched his fist in his glove.

“ _Yes_ , Ren. It will _take longer to build_ , yes, thank you.” Hux could almost taste his tone growing short. “That’s why we’re not going to build the entire thing from scratch, you see. We’ll build it on something that’s _already there_ ,” he pulled up the schematics for the base as he talked. In the margins he had jotted notes about features that would likely be necessary in a planet to host the base. Scouting teams had already begun their preliminary scans of Outer Rim systems to find something suitable. Somewhere, his pet planet was already out there, waiting for him.

Hux turned to face Kylo, hoping his gaze was sufficiently hard. “Is there anything else? If not I’d like to get on with my work.”

Kylo tugged at his gloves, seeming almost unsure. “No, General...that will be all.”

“Fine,” Hux snapped. He didn’t watch as Kylo exited. He had other things to worry about.


	5. Chapter 5

_Another component of human courtship involves the presentation of gifts. Humans put great value in the symbolic meaning of gifts offered with no expectation of reciprocation._

-From Chapter 11: _Courtship Rituals: Risk Begets Reward_

 

 

Brendol Hux, Jr., General of the First Order and commander of the _Finalizer_ , was intimately familiar with the inner workings of his Resurgent-class Star Destroyer. He knew, for example, exactly which corridors the sewage system ran through, and which corridors would be automatically sealed off first in the event of an emergency shutdown. A walk through the many levels of his ship was a soothing exercise of identifying things exactly as they should be, where they should be. There were no surprises.

Which was why, upon opening his door to step into the corridor precisely fifteen minutes before the start of his shift, General Hux had nearly tripped over the gnarled mass of greenery that caught the toe of his boot. Shifting back to regain his balance, he frowned down at the floor. The little clay pot, filled with dirt and a plant, looked back blankly.

Deep red vines curled together, covered in broad leaves, violently vermilion, that forked into two dagger-like tips. A few thin stalks, so dark as to be almost black, jutted up from the mass of vines, ending in tight buds of bright green spotted in red. Hux felt a gut desire to back away from it as quickly as possible. Checking down the corridor to make sure no one saw him, Hux bent to grab the pot, then pulled it into his quarters. He placed it on the counter in the kitchenette, studying it. The buds continued to draw his attention, fascinating despite the quiet alarm in the base of his brain.  

Without realizing Hux reached up slowly, gloved fingers longing to stroke along the tips of the buds. And the subtle perfume they put out was very alluring; he could only imagine what they would smell like when fully opened. Tenderly he ran a fingertip along the end of one tight, pursed bud, creating the slightest tug at its opening.

Several things seemed to happen at once: At the pressure of his touch, the bud snapped open, exposing the inner surfaces of four thick petals, dotted with sticky pink globs. Hux knew they were sticky because, before he could pull his hand away, the petals rotated, centering around his extended finger, and then _bit_ him, globules adhering to the leather of his glove and hardening almost immediately. When he jerked, trying to pull free, the grip of the bud tightened, and the stuck leather pulled away from itself with a soft, dense sound. Hux cried out in surprise before quickly reaching up with his other hand and pulling the glove off, freeing himself while the glove remained trapped in the bud’s calcified grasp.

Hux watched in shock, clutching his bare hand, as the bud closed completely around the glove. A wet hissing sound emanated from the bud as the glove was consumed, accompanied by a sulfurous smell. He looked down at his hand in horror, still feeling the pressure of those hardened globs, imagining what could have happened if the glove hadn’t served so well.

He reached for his Comm link. “Hux to bridge.”

 _“Yes, sir?”_ Mitaka’s voice crackled, tremulous.

“I want Captain Phasma sent to my quarters, immediately.”

 _“Yes, sir_.”

She arrived just as Hux extended the second glove, following its compatriot into death, forward on a fork, allowing it to brush along a second bud. The response was the same but no less spectacular.

“Someone’s trying to kill me,” Hux told her. He pointed at the disappearing second glove. The sulfur smell returned. “it nearly took my hand off.”

Phasma’s polished helmet was stoic as she studied the new threat to security. “That’s a snipevine,” she concluded.

“What?”

“An Abraxian snipevine,” she elaborated. “They’re carnivorous.”

“Yes, I can see that, thank you. It was outside my door. I might have been meant to fall on it.” He suppressed a shudder.

The silver mask turned to look at him, drifting down and then up again. “You’d be too big for it to eat completely. Likely it would have just taken some of you and left the rest.”

“You’re being quite reassuring, I really appreciate it. How did it get here? Surely none of your troopers is just...just growing these things in their quarters, are they?”

Phasma shook her head. “Abraxian snipevines are a controlled export. For obvious reasons, they’re quite dangerous, very popular among the trade gangs along the Rim.” Her disapproval was palpable.”They’re notoriously hard to care for, besides. No, sir, I think someone brought this aboard specifically for you. Are you in trouble with any gangs, sir?”  

Hux shot her a hard look. “Of course not. Who would have even brought them aboard? We haven’t had visitors in ages…”

Phasma’s sniff was quiet but still audible.

“What?” Hux snapped. “If you’ve got an idea spit it out.”

“Well.” She started. “Someone left this at your door.”

“Yes, that’s where today started going badly.”

“Who leaves a plant at someone’s door?”

Hux rolled his eyes impatiently. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out, Captain.”

“Sir...I think you have a secret admirer, sir.” Even beneath her helmet Hux could sense a knowing smile.

Hux leveled her with a look. “I’ve never known you to have a sense of humor, Captain.”

“Sir.”

"It's one of the things I most like about you."

"Sir."

"It would be a pity if you were to start now."

“Yes, sir.”

Hux sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Isn’t there a security camera on this hallway? Check the footage. No, I’ll do it myself.” He dismissed Phasma with a wave of his hand, then turned back to look warily at the snipevine.

 

* * *

 

In his quarters Kylo Ren sat rapidly flipping through the manual on his datapad, scanning for clues. He’d made a mistake, surely, somehow he must have botched the delivery, and now Hux would hate him, hate him forever. He had failed, he was a failure, a tiny worthless speck in the vast empty space of existence whose ineffectual grasping was pointless.

He had meant to deliver the gift to Hux personally, hand it to him and declare his intentions--he’d prepared a little speech, not that it would do him any good now--but then Hux had been absent, and he’d panicked, he hadn’t prepared for this particular possibility and where was the chapter on courtship _why wasn’t any of this working--_

 

* * *

 

 Hux sat, datapad on his lap, and glanced again at the snipevine. It hadn’t taken long to review the surveillance videos and identify the culprit who had left the offending plant at his door. His response, however...that he was still coming to grips with.

His initial reaction had been one of affirmation. Of course Kylo Ren had left a murder flower at his door. Ren had been slowly killing him for months now with his ability to grate, slowly and persistently, at Hux’s nerves. His constant need for supervision. His blatant disregard for command hierarchy and order. His gradual destruction of the _Finalizer_ . His occasional and very concerning inclinations toward conversations that served no apparent purpose, asking _how are you_ and _what do you think_ and _Starkiller is coming along nicely_ as though it were in any way relevant to his missions.

And yet, if Kylo Ren wanted him dead, surely there was a more efficient way of doing so than delivering a threatening plant. That blasted lightsaber came to mind; Kylo probably wouldn’t even have to swing it, he could probably just point it in Hux’s general direction and wait, the thing was clearly a safety hazard waiting for an opportunity.

Hux leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. He chewed absently at the inside of his cheek, thinking. In truth, he didn’t know what to make of the whole situation; he’d never been given flowers before. Plant, he corrected himself, not flowers. Death plant. But still, was there much of a difference?

Was there?

 

* * *

 

“...and I think you’ll find the estimated timelines for materials and labor acquisition are quite reasonable, all things considered.”

Kylo set down the datapad Hux had pushed across the desk at him. “This seems acceptable. Supreme Leader will be pleased.”

“Hmm, I agree.” Hux straightened the stacks of figures and construction plans in front of him. “Well, that’s all I’ve got. Anything else to discuss?” It had been a remarkably calm meeting; Kylo hadn’t even touched his lightsaber this time. It was almost--Hux dared to think it-- _collegial_.

“I have nothing further to report.” Kylo sat back, watching Hux adjust his paperwork. It had not escaped the Knight’s attention how the straight edges of everything on Hux’s desk either ran perfectly parallel or perfectly perpendicular to another object. The only exception to this rule was the round pot on one corner where the blood-red snipevine sat, growing contentedly. Kylo wondered if Hux mentally projected a grid over the surface to assist in his machinations. He resisted the temptation to check; Hux would feel it.

The beat of silence between them stretched a fraction of a second too long as Kylo considered the structure of Hux’s thoughts. The General glanced up then, and, for reasons he could not quite explain to even himself, nodded toward the plant.

“Have you seen my Abraxian snipevine, Ren?”

Kylo had been wearing this particular mask and helmet for a number of standard years, and earlier versions of the design for long stretches of time before that. He was quite acclimated to how it felt to wear them even in the harshest environments, through even the most harrowing of battles. He was _not_ used to breaking into a cold sweat under his mask, and so he suddenly felt very clammy, chilled to the bone and very, very warm all at once.

“I don’t. Believe so, no.”

Hux glanced sideways at him, eyes heavily lidded and calm. “It’s quite a remarkable species. It tried to eat me at first,” he reached out with a gloved hand to gently stroke the underside of a broad, red leaf. “But we’ve since learned a great deal about each other.” As he petted at the vine’s leaves the nearest bud slowly unfurled, revealing the tender interior, pink globules of sap glistening. Hux smiled at it tenderly, then corrected himself and looked back expectantly at Kylo. “Anyway, I thought you might find it interesting.” His gloved fingers tapped at the surface of his desk in an uncharacteristic nervous tic.  

“Very,” Kylo answered, thankful not for the first time that the mask hid both his expression and the sound of his swallowing. His throat was suddenly very dry. With a jerk he stood, hand resting on the back of the chair. “I’ll...leave you, then.” He hesitated under Hux’s scrutinous gaze, boots feeling primed to bolt but also impossible to lift from the floor. With great effort he turned to leave.

“Ren…” Hux called after him, sounding plaintive. Kylo turned to look.

“Won’t you...join me for a drink, later? In the officers’ lounge?” The expression on Hux’s face was quite unfamiliar. He looked nervous, a little unsure.

Kylo tilted his head slightly. “Yes,” came the brusque reply. Then, before he could change his mind, he fled.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art for this chapter provided by the talented, inimitable kylostahp: [View full image here](https://67.media.tumblr.com/63e0e6d67c33baaf41493f43a5f80026/tumblr_o86krsKwom1u9rrx7o1_1280.jpg)

_Any being interested in the courtship processes of humans will find a lifetime of rewarding study before them. Without the advantage of physiological markers or seasonally prescribed mating seasons, humans are left to navigate courtship and mating largely independently. Therefore human courtship rituals are elaborate and precarious.  An incorrect gesture or word can sabotage great effort, and end a relationship before it has even begun…_

_-_ From Chapter 11: _Courtship Rituals: Risk Begets Reward_

 

 

They really ought to have done this earlier, Hux thought, as he pilfered the bar of the officers’ lounge for one of the bottles of not-strictly-regulation-compliant Arkanian whiskey he knew the junior officers kept hidden. Once the mask was off (and Hux had endeavored to seem completely unimpressed by its removal) Kylo seemed an entirely different person from the brooding dark ghost that hovered over his command station at the bridge and haunted the corridors, spooking the crew. His face was, at turns, cautiously guarded and expressive, brows shifting in enthusiasm whenever he spoke on a topic that seemed to be of particular interest. Right now, that topic was the effects of some esoteric Force-using technique that, as far as Hux could tell, seemed to consist mainly of blowing up one’s enemies. Kylo had been eager to correct that assessment.

“Shatterpoint is incredibly precise. It’s all about connecting with the weakest fault lines in any object or living being, it takes incredible focus to identify a shatterpoint in the first place, and then directing the Force through it is...is...it’s the _most_ challenging thing.”

Without the flattening effect of the mask’s modulator Ren’s voice was clipped, his vowels too enunciated, and something about it caught Hux’s ear. It sounded as though Ren were trying to compensate in his speech, correcting some flaw to sound more like the First Order officers aboard. He must be from some scummy New Republic territory. The idea amused Hux endlessly, he reflected, settling back onto one couch and handing a freshly filled glass to Kylo on the other. Kylo took the glass, fingertips barely touching the side of Hux’s hand a brief instant.

There was a pause. Hux filled it. “How does it work? The Force.”

Kylo sighed. “It’s...difficult to explain.”

Hux snorted. “Try me.”

Kylo leaned back, contemplative. “Well. It was all there, together, in the beginning. The Force, entwined with everything else. At the start of things. The universe, I mean.” Kylo swirled his glass, watching the liquor cling to the inner curve. “When everything went, in the prime expansion, it all got...scattered.” He looked

"Think of oil and water in a pot. The oil is the Force, and the water is the rest of existence. At first you’ve just got a single blob of oil, floating on the surface of the water. But then things get stirred up, the oil goes everywhere in little blobs.” He gestured with one hand, fingertips exploding outward. “But if they bump into each other with enough velocity, they’ll merge again, and get bigger. They’ll start to--to consolidate.”

Hux nodded, sipping from his whiskey. “They pull together.”

“Right, and they’re always going to follow the path of least resistance to make that happen. So say there’s a ripple in the water, or someone stirs things around--the oil can be broken up again, or sometimes it will find other bits to merge with, and it has enough behind it to make that connection.”

“So the Force is oil in water. So...so what?”

“It’s _power_ , Hux. The Force is power. And it is always working to consolidate itself. The Force is attracted to itself, it’ll keep pulling together until it’s all in one piece. In one place.” Kylo paused, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear.

“So it’s sort of inevitable?”

“Well...no.” Kylo shook his head and the lock of hair fell forward again. “You can use the Force to drive the Force, it’s a power that moves itself in response to itself, it’s...it’s difficult to explain,” he finished lamely.

Hux nodded patiently. “Wouldn’t you want to consolidate it? More power, that kind of thing?”

Kylo’s head shook again. “There’s more power...more, almost kinetic? energy, in keeping the Force from itself, or resisting its drive to resolve itself. Keep it separated, let it close enough to itself to pull, but...not joining.” He looked into Hux’s face, brown eyes shining. “And then when you release it, it’s...the power can be quite...spectacular.”

Hux watched Kylo’s throat move as he spoke and swallowed. He felt his own warm breath fogging up his glass as he sipped in the quiet. It was unnerving. “How long have you been apprenticed to Snoke?” He swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the ice melt into the liquor.

Kylo sipped delicately at his whiskey, nose wrinkling slightly at the burn. “Ten...fifteen years? Something like that. But he was aware of my...talents long before he called me to him.”

Suddenly it clicked. “Ren...is that a core world accent? Are you from a Core World?” Hux could barely mask his surprise.

Kylo looked away. “I try to speak clearly,” he said, soft and defensive.

“It sounded like Corellian,” Hux prodded. “ _Stars_ , are you _Corellian_?” he asked when Ren didn’t deny it.

Kylo tossed back his drink, studiously avoiding Hux’s intense focus. “I...spent some years there. A long time ago.”

Hux sat back, chuffed. It made so much more sense now; Ren spoke so oddly, hiding behind his mask, to conceal his Republican roots. Putting so much effort into sounding more Rimbound, like any officer of the First Order. And maybe Hux’s pleasure was too great at this realization, or the whiskey had finally worked its magic. “You’re embarrassed,” Hux teased.

“I’m not,” Kylo argued, poking at the last vestiges of ice in his glass.

“Speak normally, then.”

“This _is_ normal.”

“I mean speak with your accent.” Hux stretched, extending both arms over the back of the couch. “Go on, say something I’d hear on Corellia.”  

Kylo glared up at him from beneath dark lashes, quiet for a moment. A huff of breath. “Two malts and fifty credits on the Geonosian to win,” he drawled. Even seated, he affected an air of swaggering nonchalance, face relaxing into an expression of smirking flirtation.

Hux rolled his head back against the leather of the couch. “You sound like some filthy cantina-crawling smuggler,” he chuckled.

“Something like that,” Kylo muttered quietly, staring down into his glass. The hint of a smile lingered at the corner of his mouth.

Hux stared at him for a moment. Kylo’s face settled back into blankness as he watched out the window of the officers’ lounge, all-enveloping darkness punctuated only occasionally by needlepoints of light. Hux watched his body sag, then slowly drop as Kylo stretched out across the couch. He stared at the ceiling, the sharp angle of his nose pointed toward the ceiling. Those thick lashes brushed over the smooth planes of his cheeks as he blinked slowly, content.

"You know, you’re quite pretty," Hux blurted, then slid off the low couch to kneel on the floor, one arm balanced on the edge of a cushion. He always had been bad about stopping his drinking when he ought.  

Kylo turned his head to stare at him, brown eyes widened in mild surprise. “Am I?”

Hux made a face. “Oh, you must know it.”

“I don’t.”

“Surely,” Hux cajoled. Kylo continued to stare at him blankly. “Hasn’t anyone told you that before?”

“No,” came Kylo’s soft reply.  
  
“Well,” Hux huffed, “you are.” He crossed his arms. Kylo’s mouth slowly curled into a soft smile. “Don’t look at me like that!”

“It’s just surprising, that’s all.”

“Why?”

Kylo said nothing, only continued to smile mysteriously. “I thought you wouldn’t find anything... _pretty_.” He spoke the last word delicately, as if afraid of breaking it with the press of his tongue against teeth. “You’re too logical for it.”

“I find plenty of things pretty,” Hux huffed.

“Name one. Other than my face,” Kylo smirked. His cheeks were warm, pinked from whiskey.

Hux frowned in concentration. “The _Finalizer_ ,” he finally answered.

Kylo’s laugh was loud, bold and warm. Hux smiled despite himself. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. The ship is beautiful,” Hux felt his mouth relaxing, a warm feeling starting in his chest. “I saw the plans years ago, when they first announced the new class of ships to be commissioned. I wanted one, then. Needed to have it under my feet.”

“No other ship would have pleased you,” Kylo observed.

“No,” Hux agreed. He glanced up. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What do you find pretty, Ren, that was the question.”

“Hmm.” Kylo turned to stare at the ceiling again, hair shifting beneath him, glossy black waves catching the dim light. “Hmm,” he said again.

“Or don’t you dark Force users think things are _pretty_ ,” Hux derided.

Kylo cut him with a look. “We do. I do. It’s just…” he looked at Hux, biting at his bottom lip.

His lips were stupidly plump, Hux realized. “...It’s hard to explain?”

“Yes.”

“Keep it, then.” Hux threw back the rest of his whiskey. “Keep your secrets.”

“I could show you,” Kylo said, suddenly. “With my...in your mind.”

Without realizing, and certainly without thinking, Hux extended his hand in offering to the Knight. Kylo took it, his large, bony fingers wrapping around Hux’s slender hand, pulling him to his knees until he was scooting closer. “How close do I have to be,” Hux wondered aloud.

Kylo’s hand brushed his temple. “Here. Just here.” His eyes closed and his fingers circled lightly on the side of Hux’s head. Hux wasn’t sure whether to follow Kylo’s lead and close his eyes, or keep them open because...well. There was something arresting about watching Kylo relax. Kylo smiled. “I heard that. Take a deep breath, I’ll start.”

Hux shifted uneasily, but forced himself to breathe deeply anyway. As he exhaled he felt the--” _oh_ ”--the plunge of Kylo’s mind into his own, a stone falling through water, smoothly settling in the base of his brain, sending up bubbles in its wake. Each bubble rose to the surface of his mind, bursting to reveal a new memory, bright with sensation: a forest burning on some little moon, smoke and ash filling the sky. Ten thousand points of light in a glittering cave yawning over Kylo’s head. The droning thrum of pushing a ship’s engine into the first stages of hyperdrive. Hux’s face in profile, bent over his paperwork. The black center point of the flame of a candle. The collapse of a blue giant star. The curl of Hux’s lips as he smiled at a deathly plant. Hux’s hair. Hux.

Hux opened his eyes, not realizing they had closed. He had also, apparently, leaned forward, settling his face close to Kylo’s own. Hux felt his breath, refracted, from the plane of Kylo’s cheek. “Ren.” A hand stroked at his hair. “Ren. Kylo.”

“General.”

Hux’s hand found its way to Kylo’s chest. “Open your eyes.”

Slowly Kylo’s lashes parted, blinking owlishly. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

“Don’t.” Hux held up a hand. “Just. Don’t.” He searched Kylo’s face.

“I...have intentions. With you, General.” Kylo struggled with the words, then, as Hux’s lips crashed into his own, silencing him. He tensed, then relaxed, allowing Hux to guide him into a warm embrace and the pattern of kiss answering kiss.

After a few moments Hux pulled away with swollen lips. “Tell me about your intentions, Kylo,” his voice breathy and warm. “But not here, come with me.” His hand squeezed Kylo’s bicep as his mind thought _my quarters_ , the implication a bright blur.

Kylo felt his face flush as his voice temporarily abandoned him. He nodded dumbly, scrambling to pull himself off the floor and keep up with Hux, already straightening his jacket and heading for the door.

 

* * *

 

On any planet, there might have been the light of a sun or two to weakly filter through gauzy curtains and gently wake Hux the next morning. As it was, the _Finalizer_ was two standard cycles from the nearest star at top speed, and Hux was roused from between the pillows of his bed as Kylo sat up, shifting on the mattress. He groaned quietly as his body protested, cramping awkwardly after the unusual experience of sharing a bed.

“...Is this okay?” Kylo’s question roused Hux more fully.

“Probably none of this is,” Hux answered automatically. He propped himself up on his elbows, bleary-eyed. “I don’t know, what part?”

Kylo looked down at him, face lined with worry. There were other lines on him, too, Hux realized. Not totally unfamiliar lines, either; dimly he recalled pulling Kylo’s shirt off and tracing the firm wall of muscle he'd found underneath. He was quite a specimen, Hux marveled. Fresh red marks dappled Kylo’s collarbone and throat. Hux swallowed and remembered making them. A hand traveled to his mouth; his lips felt raw, his tongue dry.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Kylo continued, speaking seemingly to himself.

“Do what? What did we do…?” Hux deliberated over the sock half-hanging from one foot. Its mate was nowhere to be seen.

“This part wasn’t covered in the manual,” Kylo said mournfully. His hands twisted together anxiously.

The sock was dismissed in a final decisive tug and abandoned to the floor. “What manual, Ren? What are you talking about?” Hux looked up, concern causing him to focus.

“Courtship rituals,” Kylo moaned. “You were a suitable companion. Are. No one else would do.” His lips settled together, thick and quivering in an expression of misery.

Hux blinked. It was far too early to be processing this kind of information. “...are you saying you were trying to... _court_ me?” Kylo only nodded.

Hux stared at nothing for a moment. “You great git,” he finally declared, head swiveling until he could focus on Kylo. Kylo pulled back, affronted. “Why didn’t you just say something?”

“I don’t think you would have liked it,” Kylo crossed his arms over his chest. One hand scratched idly at his shoulder.

“ _Of course_ I wouldn’t have liked it. But at least I would’ve known what you were trying for.” Hux sighed and collapsed back into the pillows. “I thought you were just terribly annoying, you know.”

“I _know_ ,” Kylo murmured, eyes going wide. He hugged himself again, making himself small. He looked so vulnerable; Hux imagined aiming one solid kick to his side, pushing him from the bed and ushering him out the door, throwing his clothes behind him. He could probably avoid Kylo for at least a full cycle until his next shift. If he was lucky, he thought, he could engage the _Finalizer_ in a firefight with the nearest Resistance base and probably get the whole problem neatly dealt with by arranging his own heroic death.

But who was he kidding.

“I’m not going to make it easy for you,” Hux warned from somewhere near Kylo’s hip. One pale arm extended, pointing toward the ceiling in a declaration. “I don’t give in without at least a little effort.” His tongue poked into one cheek, mulling over it. More than he would like to admit, he savored the next few words. “You’re going to have to _work_ for it.”

Kylo watched him with what Hux considered to be a sickening amount of tenderness. And it was only getting worse. “Shut up,” Hux groused. He rolled to one side, pretending not to notice the large, warm hand settling gently on his arm. There was more to say, he was sure of it. But it could wait, he realized, drifting back into sleep. Kylo wasn’t going anywhere.

 

_Communication is the cornerstone of human civilization; without it they might have only been a short-lived growth on the evolutionary tree of their origin planet. Admittedly, they have struggled to overcome numerous adaptive shortcomings, but continually they have endeavored to express themselves more freely, more accurately, and more honestly.  In relating to one another they find their greatest weakness and their greatest strength, for while their attachments can leave them humbled and vulnerable, their drive to commune with one another leads them to their greatest triumphs._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If your idea of a fun date involves bringing an end to the Senate, and their cherished fleet, you can follow me on [tumblr](http://gay-space-fascist.tumblr.com/).


End file.
